Beyond The Realm Of Imagination
by Kibo Oto
Summary: Some people have a collection of rocks or stamps. Luna has a collection of ashes of those who have suffered great anguish. Implied torture.


_Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)_

_Assignment #6; Biosciences: Zoology; Task #4 - Primary feathers: the longest feathers, found at the end of the wing. Write about a collection or a collector._

**Word Count: **975

**Warnings: **Implied torture

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The old bell tinkled cheerily as the heavy-set wood door slowly creaked open. Luna walked in, her steps light and quiet. The store was empty except for an old man at the counter. Being a fairly old antique shop, it didn't have any security cameras in it. Luna ignored him for the time being, instead walking around slowly, examining all the items on display to her.

Luna's eyes held a certain clarity in them, an awareness of the world and the people around her. She scanned the shelves in search of the one thing she desired most of all. She had felt restless all day, something twisting strangely inside her before she had finally gotten up and gone to the shop.

This was a new shop, not one of her usual haunts, but she could feel the pull here, that slick, pulsing feeling inside of her leading her quite a distance from her home. Uncomfortable and oddly discontent, Luna browsed a bit more, putting off finding the item she wanted, no, needed.

Vaguely, Luna thought about what her mother would say about the _interesting_ collection she had amassed. She was sure it wouldn't be pleasant but quickly moved on from the thought. Her mother was dead and has been for a long time. It didn't really matter what she would say anyhow.

Luna walked to the next shelf, stopped, and smoothly turned to the object that has caused her great distress, as well as great satisfaction. The slick, pulsing feeling inside her ebbed and flowed, causing her to feel heavy and grounded.

It had been so long since she had collected her last item, but it was all rushing back to her. That staticky sound buzzing just below her ear, being able to feel the pumping of her heart, the blood steady and warm in her fingers, sometimes flowing a bit too fast, causing just the tips of her fingers to tingle.

She wrapped her fingers carefully around the cool, smooth surface, applying only the tiniest amount of pressure. She brought it close to her body, cradling the fragile item. This one would join her collection, one that had taken her years to amass.

She stroked the front of the glass, hoping to provide some kind of comfort. Other people may think her crazy or disturbed, thinking she was going too far with her _imaginary_ creatures, or more specifically, the heliopaths. They didn't understand that they weren't, in fact, imaginary at all. They were quite real, but they had hidden away from everyone and everything, but Luna could still see them.

She sometimes questioned whether her father could actually see them or not, or if he was just trying to comfort her when her mother, his wife, had died. But Luna could always see them. They had comforted her when things went wrong, like when her mother died, or when the other kids in Ravenclaw and the other houses would bully her.

They had hidden away from the cruelties of the world and the creatures that inhabit it. They had hidden away so long ago that nobody knows of their once real existence, thinking them to be only imaginary. Creatures of all shapes and sizes had hunted and slaughtered their kind. Nothing stopped them, no matter how many times the heliopaths screamed and begged and pleaded for mercy.

Eventually, they lost their voice, and not a sound was to be heard from their lips ever again. They now only communicated with feelings and vague, but intense impressions of half-formed thoughts in a language long since forgotten. They had tasked Luna a mission, through feelings and stories of their hardship that was barely understandable, but always left Luna reaching for more.

'Collect our dead still suffering and in anguish,' they seemed to say by pulsing out feelings of anguish and bondage. 'Let them rest and find peace.'

Luna didn't know how, but their dead brethren were stuck in a block of glass, the terrified, haunted looks on their faces memorialized. Only the faces were left intact, with an expression of pain and anguish, while the rest of their fire colored bodies were mutilated beyond recovery. Luna collected them and took them home, incinerating the glass and the body inside, essentially cremating them. She then took the ashes and put them into a little, opaque vial, and put that aside in a box filled with other little, opaque vials. One day, she would find the perfect place to spread the ashes and let them finally have their eternal rest, once and for all.

Luna gently placed the block of glass into her deep robe pockets. She then walked over to the old man at the counter before pulling out her wand and obliviating him. After she made sure the old man remembered nothing about her or the block of glass, she left as quietly as she came in, the slick, pulsing feeling inside her slowly fading away.

Whenever she heard news about one of her bullies dying in a tragic, horrible way, or becoming paralyzed, or losing their magic in unexpected ways, usually after she had performed one of her cremation ceremonies, she didn't react, or think about how it only happened after she had set one of the heliopaths dead to rest. She didn't acknowledge the smug and satisfied feeling that would be pulsed to her by the heliopaths. She knew that the heliopaths always paid their dues to those who helped them, but she never asked the question of how they were repaying her.


End file.
